


under this condition

by Mildredo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake and Amy get sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	under this condition

The appearance of an exasperated Holt near Amy's desk was not unusual. The exasperation, or at least half of it, being directed at her was.

“Santiago. Peralta. My office, now. We need to talk about… this.” He gestured vaguely between their desks and turned on his heel. Amy frowned. Jake's desk was a disaster, but no more so than usual and Holt had already given his lecture on the state of it that week. Her side was perhaps a little more cluttered than was standard, with the recent addition of a neat little box of tissues and a packet of throat lozenges, but compared to Jake it was perfect. Rubbing at her temples, she stood and waited as Jake pulled himself out of his chair, dug the heels of his hands into his heavy-lidded eyes, and coughed once.

As they walked into the office, Gina recoiled from them and held her index fingers in a cross.

“You both need to go home,” Holt said simply, not even inviting them to sit. “You're too sick to work.”

“Sick? We're not sick,” Jake said, and the way that _not_ sounded far more like _bot_ meant nothing.

“And even if I was sick, sir, it's a matter of personal pride that I have never once taken a sick day.” Amy sniffed a little too loudly to be convincing, desperately trying to hold back a sneeze.

“Besides, I'm about to close the Lightman case. I've been working this case for _months_.”

“It wasn't a suggestion,” Holt said, lacing his fingers together and sitting straight. “It was an order. And if you continue to defy my orders, I will suspend you both for a week. It's your choice.”

“But the monthly reports are due and I haven't finished writing up the Perry Street cocaine bust, and...” Amy protested, but she was cut off by her own treacherous body forcing out the sneeze she had tried so hard to curtail.

“I would rather,” Holt said, standing to hand Amy a tissue, “be down two detectives than have you both here infecting the entire squad. Now, go home, get some rest, and I don't want to see either of you until you are both twenty-four hours clear of your last cough, sneeze, or sniffle. Understood?”

As the elevator doors closed behind them, they didn't see the entire squad disappear behind a cloud of disinfectant.

 

*

 

“My head feels like it's filled with elephants,” Amy groaned as Jake returned from the kitchen with two mugs of hot tea. She sipped as he climbed back into bed and started flipping through a magazine he found in Amy's living room.

“I don't think that's possible,” Jake said. He landed at the puzzle pages and, finding every one of them completed, closed the magazine and tossed it to the floor.

“I don't care. That's what it feels like.”

“I blame Terry for this,” Jake said. “He made us babysit his little germ factories this weekend.”

“You're Ava's godfather. You _insisted_ on being Ava's godfather.”

“And now I wish I could go back and punch past-Jake for that.”

“No, you don't. You love Ava.”

“I love her less for giving us her baby disease.”

“Still, you don't get to complain about babysitting _or_ getting sick from said babysitting. It's in the job description.”

“I thought the job description was mostly stuff about renouncing the devil?”

“Small print.”

 

* *

 

“How are you wearing three sweaters?” Amy asked, flopping onto the sofa beside Jake and tucking her feet underneath her.

“How are you wearing nothing but underwear?” Jake retorted. “I'm so cold it's stupid.”

“I'm burning,” Amy said. “I swear if I was any hotter my hair would set fire.”

Jake reached out a frigid hand and pressed it against Amy's clammy forehead. They both groaned a little from the tiny relief and Amy scooted closer, hoping that somehow proximity would make her heat and Jake's cold merge into a comfortable warmth for them both.

“You're definitely sick,” Amy said as Jake began channel-hopping. “I've been almost naked all day and you haven't tried to jump me once.”

“Too tired for sex,” Jake mumbled. “M'saving the mental images, though.”

Amy managed a weak smile at that, and pressed a warm kiss to Jake's cold cheek.

 

* * *

 

Jake lost his voice completely the same day Amy was up all night with her head in the toilet. Jake stayed up with her, holding back her hair and holding a cold washcloth against her neck and bringing fresh glasses of water for her to sip. Once Amy's stomach was settled (empty, but settled), she slept until noon.

Jake barely slept. He kept waking every time he began to doze, from the pain in his throat and the need to make sure Amy was okay. She'd been so pale and weak and by the time she'd finally been able to keep some crackers down, all the energy seemed to have drained from her body. It had been frightening, honestly, to see her so broken when she was always so tough, so strong.

Amy felt better when she woke – better than she had in days. Her temperature had fallen to its usual chilly-side-of-normal, her head was lighter and her chest was looser. Her throat and stomach hurt from vomiting, but she felt herself again. She dressed and went out for some fresh air, making sure to stop by the Vietnamese place she liked to pick up too many servings of pho for two people to reasonably consume.

Jake mimed a circle around the top of his head when Amy walked in holding takeout bags, but Amy just frowned.

“Angel,” he whispered, and Amy rolled her eyes.

“I try. Feeling any better?”

“Just this.” Jake pointed at his neck. “Rest of me's all good.”

“Good to know,” Amy grinned, setting out the soup dishes in front of them. “Soup and movies?”

“Absolutely.”


End file.
